Leather Jackets and Purple Lace
by TrimbyJean
Summary: Two, maybe three, parter. "I'm cold, I'm drunk, I've been dumped, and you're LEAVING!"
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Puck's wearing a leather jacket, and Rachel's half-naked on the bathroom floor…

A/N: Oh, AUs… I love them. I really enjoy taking my two favorite Jews and sticking them in precarious situations… *evil grin*

RATING: SO… VERY… MUCH… M!

DISCLAIMED

"Ow, ow, ow…" Rachel stumbled and almost broke her ankle as she shut the bathroom door behind her. Kicking off the ridiculous six-inch heels she'd let Santana talk her into wearing, she sat on the edge of the tub and ran a hand through her tousled hair. As she blinked, bleary-eyed, she was reminded of the makeup she was wearing, which was probably running unattractively down her face by now. Pushing to her feet, Rachel padded on unsteady feet to the mirror.

Her hair was a wild brunette mane around her face, and she was surprised to see her mascara was still intact. At least one thing was going right.

"Stupid Finn, stupid party, stupid, stupid, stupid!" She picked up a heel and chucked it at the door, satisfied when it thunked hard against the wood. She wanted to hurl one at her ex-boyfriend's stupid, dopey head.

It was hot in the apartment, or maybe it was the alcohol. Either way, Rachel felt like she was suffocating in the tight black dress her best friend had forced her into. Her hands somehow found the zipper and tugged it all the way down. She shimmied out of the stretchy fabric and kicked it toward her heels, leaving her standing in the middle of Santana's bathroom in nothing but the purple lace panties and bra said Latina had helped her pick out. Feeling much more free, Rachel sank down on the cold tiles and stretched her legs out in front of her, picking up the bottle of Jack Daniels she'd filched and taking a big sip. It burned going down, and didn't taste too good, but it helped. She'd just hide here for the rest of the party, and when everyone left she could curl up with her best friend and have a good cry over the stupidity of boys. Maybe she'd let Santana wax poetic the pros of lesbianism. Taking another big gulp, still ignoring the burn of alcohol- she hardly ever drank more than half a glass of wine; a good drunk she did not make- Rachel decided that was a good plan. Or maybe it was the alcohol talking.

Puck was bored. Santana had lured him here with promises of ridiculous amounts of alcohol and hot girls, and so far she'd only delivered good on one of two. Sure, most of the chicks here were decent, but they were _annoying as hell._ He was ready to throw in the towel and call it a night.

He spotted Santana a few feet away, arm wrapped around Brittany and talking with two guys who were definitely gay, and together. He kind of remembered them from somewhere; he thought they might have come into the bar to see Santana when he worked a shift with her. He swore he knew their names, too, but his buzz made him fuzzy. He also noticed the tall gangly teen talking with Brittany's friend Artie. Finn. Puck remembered Finn, and he didn't like him all that much. Dude seemed dumber than a bag of bricks, and he had this super hot girlfriend that he always seemed to ignore. If Puck had a chick like her, he'd ignore _everyone else_, not her.

Finn caught this eye and started ambling his way, and Puck panicked. He didn't want to get trapped in a conversation with Franken-Dumb. He was positive his alcohol-soaked brain would shove his foot so far in his mouth, he'd feel it in his stomach. Searching for an escape, he disappeared down the hall and to the bathroom.

He turned the handle and opened the door…

… and found Finn's super hot girlfriend sitting in the middle of the floor in her underwear, a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels by her hip. She blinked up at him when he poked his head in. She looked pretty trashed.

Holy shit.

Rachel blinked up at the vaguely familiar mohawked head that peered at her from around the bathroom door. He was one of Santana's friends from the bar where she worked. Rachel thought his name was sport-related, and that it wasn't his actual name… Pigskin? Football? Puck?

Puck. It was Puck. She remembered meeting him when she went to pick up Santana from work. He'd called her "princess" and cracked jokes about her height all night, even as his eyes never left her legs.

He was leaving. His head was disappearing from behind the door, and he was leaving. She didn't want him to leave.

"Puck."

Puck stuck his head back in at the sound of his name coming out of the tiny brunette's mouth. She looked up at him, her eyes a little bleary (he'd guess it was from the Jack Daniels). She ran a hand through her hair and he tried to keep his eyes off of her chest, pushed up on display in that pretty pale purple bra. '_She has a boyfriend. She's taken. She has a boyfriend. She's taken. She has a fucking boyfriend…" _

Her lower lip quivered and Puck tensed, ready to bolt at the first tear. He did not handle crying women well, especially really hot, half-naked ones who _had boyfriends_.

She pushed her hair back with her hand, that bottom lip still quivering. Shit_._ The first tear slid down her cheek, and Puck almost groaned. He started to back out the door, and Rachel cried harder_. Shit_. "What's the matter?"

"Everything!" She practically wailed, the tears falling in big, fat drops. "My feet hurt, my hair's all messed up, I'm drunk, Finn dumped me, my makeup's ruined, and _you're leaving_!" She sobbed, pulling her knees up to her chest and reminding Puck that she was still in her underwear. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the bathroom and closed the door, locking it. "Look, I'm not leaving. See? I'm still here." He sat down next to her, shrugging out of his leather jacket. The tile was cold, and he leaned against the side of the tub. She was still crying, but less now; she leaned against him, crying into his chest. Puck wasn't sure what to do, so he put an arm around her shoulders. "It's okay." He said awkwardly.

"No, it's not!" She bawled into his shirt. "My feet still hurt, I look terrible, I'm still drunk, and Finn's still dumped me!" She sniffled, her whole body shaking. Puck rubbed her shoulder awkwardly, racking his brain for what to say. Finally, he leaned away from her and looked down at her. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, and her makeup had run a little. Her hair was a tangle of brown waves, and her cheeks were streaked with drying tears.

"You look great, babe. Trust me. You're the prettiest sight I've seen in a long while." She sniffled and wiped her nose on her hand, and Puck resisted the urge to wince. He hadn't _really_ been lying. Under the depression, and the whole train wreck thing, she still was the hottest girl he'd seen lately. He'd been fucking hypnotized by her the first time she'd walked into the bar.

"R-really?" She asked, looking like she could start crying all over again. He nodded, trying to smile.

"Really."

"B-but I'm still drunk. And my feet still hurt. And I'm c-cold." She sniffled a little more. Puck grabbed his jacket off the floor and draped it over her shoulders, tucking it around her as she slipped her arms through the sleeves. He pulled her hair out from the collar, and sat back.

"There. That oughta warm you up."

"I'm still drunk."

He shrugged. "Ain't nothing wrong with being drunk every once in a while. 'Sides, it'll wear off soon, and you'll feel better." He took the bottle from her and set it on the other side from him, far away from her reach. "But there. I'll take away the temptation." Sitting back and eyeing her, he rubbed his chin. "Now, what was your other problem?"

"My feet hurt. And I'm dumped."

He nodded. "That's right… C'mere." He patted his lap. "Put your feet up. C'mon." She scooted forward, and Puck was a gentleman enough to keep his eyes off her chest. She put her tiny feet in his lap, and he began rubbing them. "That feel better?"

She smiled a little and nodded. He kept rubbing them, and could see her relaxing. "So, what happened with your boyfriend?"

"He dumped me." Rachel replied mournfully. "Yesterday. He called me and said that he didn't want to see me anymore because I was too intense, and scary. He said he wanted a family, and he didn't want to wait for me. He said I didn't love him." She sniffled and looked at him. "I did. He was my high school boyfriend."

"What did he mean, 'wait for you'?" Puck moved up to her ankles, rubbing his hands over her cool skin. Her legs were so long for someone who barely reached his shoulders, and her tan skin was deliciously beautiful.

"I have a plan." Rachel declared firmly, still sounding a little tipsy. "I'm going to win my first Tony before I turn twenty-five. Then, I'll have a family." She smiled sadly. "But now Finn doesn't want me." Her lip trembled again. Shit.

"Hey, it's his loss." He shrugged, rubbing her calves now. She'd inched forward a little more, and was closer to him. "You're a pretty sweet chick, if you ask me. Intense girls are hot, and it's good to know what you want."

She looked at him hopefully. "You think?"

"Hell, yeah. He probably just couldn't keep up. It's good you ditched him. You don't need a dope like him slowing you down, or keeping you from your dreams." He moved his hands up over her knees, even as he told himself he should stop and move away.

"I won't lie; it's gonna suck big time for a while, especially since he was your high school sweetheart and all. But trust me, you'll get over him and find someone better." His hands were on her thighs now, and her face was inches from his. He stared into her eyes and was lost in their chocolate depths. He was getting into dangerous territory here. This chick was Santana's best friend, and the Latina would skin him alive if he so much as touched a hair on her pretty little head.

She was all wrong for him anyway. She was all light, and innocence and dreams. He was a cynical asshole bartender. He'd destroy her, and it'd kill him to do that.

Her lips pressed against his, very soft and gentle. His hands stilled, then rested lightly on her hips. Her arms came up around his neck, one hand running over his mohawk. Puck didn't move; didn't so much as breathe. He thought if he did, he'd ruin the quiet, perfect moment he was currently in.

She moved back, smiling at him. He let out the breathe he'd been holding as she nestled against his side, head on his chest and arms tucked next to her. "Thank you, Puck."

"Noah." He managed to get out.

"What?"

"My name- it's Noah. Puck's a nickname."

"Oh." She said softly, snuggling closer to him. She smelled like alcohol, leather, and strawberries. "Thank you, Noah."

He sat perfectly still, and in a few minutes, her breathing evened out, letting him know she'd fallen asleep. As quietly and gently as he could, he scooped her up in his arms, jacket and all, and opened the bathroom door. He stood in the hallway, unsure of what to do. Finally, he made his way to Santana's room, praying to God she hadn't ditched her own party to make time with her girlfriend.

Her room was mercifully empty, and he settled Rachel into her friend's bed, pulling the blanket up over her. She sighed and rolled onto her side, one hand under her cheek. The sleeves of his jacket were too long on her, and the material covered all but her fingertips. She was adorable, looking even tinier in his coat.

Puck crept out of the room and back to the party, which hadn't died down for all that he had to have been with Rachel for at least half an hour. He found Santana in the kitchenette, by herself (thank God), grabbing a couple beers. She smirked when she saw him. "And where have you been hiding, Puckerman? Off in a corner with some pretty young girl who doesn't know any better?"

"Something like that." He said dryly. "Can I borrow you for a minute?"

"Ooo…" she wagged her eyebrows at him. "Am I participating, or just watching? Because I'm fine with either." She let him lead her down the hall to her room.

"Really, Puckerman? You couldn't have used the guest room, or even the bathroom? That's just disgusting." He rolled his eyes and gently pushed the door open. Santana's eyes took in Rachel on the bed, and she just about wigged.

"What the Hell!" He shushed her and shut the door. She turned accusing eyes to him. "You better have an explanation that doesn't involve my best friend and you getting naked together, Puckerman, or I'll cut you."

"I found her drunk in the bathroom. In her underwear." He added. "She started crying, and babbling, and I didn't know what to do." He told her the whole story, making sure to paint himself as a hero and not some asshole who took advantage of a drunk girl, leaving out the massage, and the kiss. "She fell asleep on the floor, so I carried her to your room and put her in bed. That's all." He held up his hands and tried to look innocent.

Santana eyed him, but ultimately, she nodded. "Thanks, Puckerman. I love the little midget, but she's very… she's a lot to handle. It couldn't have been pretty."

He shrugged. "It wasn't that bad. The crying was a little hard to take." Santana nodded, and grinned.

"I owe you a drink, Puckerman. C'mon, I'll point out the easy girls." He let her lead him down the hall, but he glanced over his shoulder at the closed door, making a mental note to check on Rachel before she left.


	2. Chapter 2

Rachel cracked her eyes open and lifted her head off the pillow a fraction. It was dark, and she was in someone's bed. She wasn't sure whose, but it wasn't her own. Her head was pounding, and she felt terrible. She had the worst case of cottonmouth, and had a horrible taste in her mouth. She vaguely recalled seeing Finn at the party, and grabbing a bottle of alcohol before hiding out in the bathroom because she couldn't face her boyfriend. _Ex. Ex-_boyfriend.

She felt a strange sensation against her skin and glanced down to see that she was wearing a leather jacket, her underwear, and nothing else. The jacket was too large on her, the sleeves covering her hands and the body reaching mid-thigh. The leather was soft, and even though- as a vegan- she was appalled at the idea of dead cow skin touching her in any capacity, she had to admit, the scent of leather was heavenly. Rachel took a moment to close her eyes, pressed the sleeves against her face, and inhaled, sighing at the smell.

Whose jacket was she wearing, and where was her dress? She knew she had been wearing some ridiculously tight black dress that had barely covered anything and had practically suffocated her when the party had started. It had gone with the terrifyingly high heels Santana had put on her, which were also missing.

What had happened to her? Had she done something incredibly stupid, and gone home with some stranger? Rachel was mortified, and slowly sat up so as not to make her headache worse. She slid the blankets off of her and pressed her feet against the hard wood floor. Taking a deep breath, she stood. She listed a little to the right, and the room spun for a few minutes, but she waited it out and as soon as she felt steady, took a few tentative steps. She made it to the door, and turned on the light. There were pictures on the dresser near the door, and Rachel squinted at them in the harsh glare. One of herself and Santana from their high school graduation back in Columbus. Rachel recognized the still, having one of her own resting on her nightstand in her own apartment. Red graduation gowns, arms thrown around each other in joy, and huge smiles; it was one of her favorite photos. There was another next to it, of Santana with a blonde Rachel recognized a moment later as Brittany. The two girls were dressed nicely, and stood with one arm around each other, smiles on their faces. Rachel remembered taking that picture at Kurt's house, when he'd had that dinner party a few months back.

She was in Santana's room. Rachel felt marginally better, knowing she hadn't allowed herself to go to some stranger's house. But she was still wearing someone's jacket, and she still didn't know whose. She guessed the best idea would be to go find Santana and ask her, but Rachel wasn't sure if the party was still going on. She wasn't even sure what time it was. Santana didn't have a clock anywhere in her room. Deciding to take a chance, Rachel found the doorknob and twisted it, tugging the door open…

Only to run straight into someone. Rachel squeaked in surprise as the person stumbled back, holding onto her arms as they fell. She cringed at the thud as they hit the wood floor of the hallway, Rachel splayed on top of him. And it was a him, she realized. She felt muscles, and something decidedly male, and blushed. She looked down to see green eyes staring back at in her equal parts amusement and concern. It was Puck, Santana's friend. Through her steady headache, Rachel remembered him. He worked at the bar with Santana, and was always teasing her when she came in to see the Latina. He also always eyed her legs appreciatively, and made sure people left her alone. He was also…

…The one in the bathroom from earlier. Which made the jacket she was wearing his. It had also meant he had seen her in her underwear. Rachel's face flamed as she remembered everything- her crying on the floor, Puck comforting her and giving her his jacket, and rubbing her feet, and kissing her.

Oh God. Rachel looked back down at him, and her face must have given her away because he chuckled quietly. Mortified, she buried her face in his chest, her hands fisting in his plain white shirt. She wanted to die, she was so embarrassed. She had made an idiot of herself in front of a very attractive man, who was friends with her best friend. This was why she never drank.

"It wasn't that bad, honest." He said, a hand on her back. His chest was still vibrating with his chuckle, and Rachel just shook her head, face still hidden. She couldn't look at him again. Ever. She needed to just get off of him and hide somewhere. Maybe back under Santana's covers. Oh God, this was terrible. She'd never live it down. It couldn't possibly get anymore awkward…

"What the _Hell?"_


	3. Chapter 3

Rachel's raised her head off of Puck's chest to see Finn standing in the hallway where it opened into the living room. He had a plastic cup in his hand and an incredulous, upset look on his face. Horrified, Rachel scrambled off of Puck as fast as she could. He stood and helped her up by gripping her arm, and she stood there next to him, speech escaping her. To be fair, she wouldn't have had a chance to say anything, because Finn was already off, stalking towards them.

"What's going on, Rach?" He towered over her and Puck (although more her than Puck, as the mohawked man was only a few inches shorter than her ex-boyfriend). Puck put himself in front of her as Finn stopped in front of them, one arm out in defense. A part of Rachel (a very small part) sighed at the way Puck defended her while hardly knowing her, but she knew she needed to fix things before they pummeled each other.

"Finn, there's a simple explanation." She poked her head around Puck's body. "See, I was opening the door to come and find Santana, and Puck was about to enter the room, and we just collided." She smiled sheepishly. "It's rather embarrassing."

"And I suppose you _accidentally _ended up in his jacket, too?"

"Why's it matter?" Puck asked quietly in a hard voice. Rachel glanced up at him in surprise. Finn's fists clenched at his side, and Rachel bit her bottom lip. If she didn't calm him down soon, her ex would explode.

"_What did you say?"_ Finn snapped.

"I mean, from what she told me, you dumped her. Kinda were a douche about it, too. So, why's it a big deal if she's wearing some dude's jacket? It's not your business anymore."

Finn's knuckles were white, and Rachel found herself gripping the fabric of Puck's t-shirt as she stood behind his back, protected. She had no doubt that Puck could handle himself in a fight, but she would prefer it not to come to that.

"You _asshole._" Finn growled. "What's between me and Rachel isn't _your_ business. So why don't you back off?" He shoved Puck, and the action jarred Rachel, who squeaked in surprise. Puck reached behind himself to steady her, and turned his head.

"You 'kay, babe?" she nodded and looked up at him, eyes widening in surprise.

"Noah, look out!"

He turned just in time to catch Finn's fist in his eye. He stumbled back, and Rachel yelped. Puck shook it off, and before she could blink, he lunged, catching Finn around the waist and bringing him down. He straddled the taller boy, and pinned his hands. "Not cool, dude."

Finn managed to throw him off, and slugged him again, this time in the ribs. Rachel was hollering at them to stop, at a few people had gathered at the mouth of the hallway. The two of them were grappling on the floor now. Rachel was trying to get between them and break them apart when she heard a distinctly familiar whistle. She looked up, and the crowd broke apart to reveal Santana, who stalked forward looking pissed. The two were still fighting, but Santana simply stood there, waiting patiently like a mother whose child was throwing a tantrum.

"Noah, please!" Rachel begged, exasperated. Puck looked up at her with those green eyes, and Santana used the distraction to grab Finn's shirt and haul him off of the other man. Rachel held out a hand and Puck took it, standing up and brushing himself off. Rachel grabbed his head and yanked him down to look at the huge bruise forming from where Finn's first punch landed. His lip was also split and bleeding a little, and she _tsked_ as she inspected him. She glanced over at Santana, who was yelling.

"-Don't care what the _fuck_ happened, you do _not _start a fight in my hallway! Now, I never really liked you, but I put up with you for Rachel, because she was all puppy-dog over you and shit. But you dumped her ass like a douchebag, so I don't need to deal with you and your shit anymore. It isn't your business anymore what Rachel does. If she wants to sleep with a different guy every night, she can, and you can't do anything about it. So get the hell outta my house and take your damage with you." She crossed her arms over her chest as Finn turned and walked away. Rachel heard the front door slam, but didn't pay much attention to it. She helped Puck back into Santana's room and sat him down on her bed. She _tsked_ again brushed past Santana, who leaned against the doorway, to get to the bathroom. She grabbed a washcloth and ran it under warm water. The Latina was still standing there when Rachel returned, but she ignored her friend in favor of Puck. He was sitting there sheepishly, touching his split lip and wincing.

"Here, stop touching it." She swatted his hand away and dabbed at the lip, feeling bad when he winced. "I'm sorry."

"'S cool. I used to get in fights all the time in school, so I'm used to it." He shrugged. Rachel simply shook her head and continued to dab at his lip until it was clean. She tilted his head down to look at his eye, and shook her head again.

Puck smirked a little at Rachel. She was taking care of him like he was a wounded soldier or some shit. It was kinda nice, having this pretty girl standing over him and cleaning his wounds. He looked over her shoulder and saw Santana standing in the doorway, watching them with interest. There was a look in her eyes that Puck absolutely did not like at all, but before he could glare at her and silently tell her to back the fuck off, Rachel's hair was in his face as she wiped gently at his eye. He closed his good eye, inhaling the smell of strawberries, leather, and stale alcohol. The first two together smelled awesome, like they belonged together, and Puck just wanted to sit there forever with her.

"You didn't have to do that." He opened his eye and found Santana gone, and Rachel looking down at him with worry. "In fact, you _shouldn't_ have done that. It could've been much worse."

He shrugged. "I'm not sorry. He shouldn't have talked to you that way."

Rachel shook her head and wiped at his lip, which had started bleeding again. "While I find your behavior chivalrous, you still shouldn't have done it."

"Fine." Puck snapped, feeling kind of annoyed. "Next time, I'll just let him treat you like dirt." Rachel didn't say anything, simply kept cleaning his face, and Puck sulked like a child.

They stayed that way in silence for a little bit, until it started to grate on his nerves. "You called me Noah." He said. Her hand paused in its ministrations, and she looked at him in surprise.

"Should I not have? That's your name, isn't it?"

He shrugged. "I just didn't think you remembered it. You were pretty much asleep." He looked up at her as she turned back to what she was doing. He could tell she was still kind of suffering from the hangover, because she looked really tired, but she also still looked beautiful. Her makeup was smeared, and she had bedhead, but her skin was pretty and looked soft, and her brunette hair was still shiny. Puck really wanted to reach out and touch it.

He'd been on his way to check on her, since it had been the first opportunity he'd had after being dragged away by Santana earlier. The Latina had tried to shove drink after drink at him, but suddenly, he hadn't been in the mood. She'd finally been distracted by Brittany, and Puck had snuck away like a bandit, figuring he'd see if Rachel was awake and needed anything.

When they'd fallen to the floor, Puck had wondered immediately if she remembered anything about earlier in the bathroom, including the kiss. He wasn't sure if it would've been more or less awkward if she hadn't. It was clear she had, though, because her face had been bright red. Puck had thought it was adorable, and yeah, he had been flirting with her a little bit. He'd be blind not to, after she admitted she was single and had kissed him in the bathroom. Plus, he genuinely liked Rachel. There was something about her that drew him in and made him want to see more of her (not like that. Although, he wouldn't mind, considering he'd seen most of it already). Even when she was drunk, she had this personality that just… sucked you in.

Maybe her personality was why he'd stood up to her stupid ex. The douche had been asking for it, but Puck hadn't really wanted to fight. Since high school, he'd done his best to be mature, and he _really_ hadn't wanted Rachel to see him like that, especially when her ex was involved. But the dude threw the first punch, and did it when Puck wasn't looking. That shit didn't fly.

Rachel had stopped cleaning his face. He looked up and found her yawning. Puck immediately felt bad. She was still hungover, she'd had a shit night, and now he was sitting here like a retard while she cleaned him up. Puck took her hand and pulled her onto the bed, lying down himself. She looked at him in surprise, but didn't leave. Puck got up and turned off the light before crawling back on the bed.

Rachel was curled up on her side facing him, and he turned his head to smile at her. He knew he must look like a goof, with his grin and his split lip and black eye, but she just smiled back and scooted closer, resting her head on his chest. He wrapped an arm around her and stared at the ceiling.

"Thank you, Noah." She said quietly.

"No problem, babe." He felt her fingers curling into the material of his shirt and closed his eyes. Her hair still smelled like strawberries, she was still wearing his jacket, and this was still a bad idea. "Night, Rach."

"Goodnight, Noah."


End file.
